Óravassë
by AustralianRanger012
Summary: AU to end of First Age. What if Sauron returned to Valinor to face the Valar's judgement after the War of Wrath? And what if, during his trial, they discovered his evil deeds had not been done completely of his own volition? Will they condemn him, or, will they show mercy to the one whom betrayed them so long ago? Inspired by AzureSkye23. Mercy-Verse.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story** **is purely a work of fanfiction, and written for fun. All rights belong to the Tolkien Estate.**

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 **A/N**

 **Welcome to yet another Tolkien related AU Universe. This time, I am taking on characters from the Silmarillion. Namely Mairon/Sauron, exploring the idea he returned to Valinor to face the Valar after the War of Wrath. Instead of running away, and hiding on Middle Earth, to eventually cause the events of the LOTR Trilogy.**

 **This Mercy-Verse collection of stories (I have several other related stories written) is inspired by AzureSkye23's amazing works that deal with similar ideas. I have used several of the same themes from those stories with permission, but this is not intended to be a copy of that Universe by any means. Specific ideas, when they are used, will be credited at the end of the relevant chapters.**

 ** **Thank you for the inspiration and permission Skye, and I hope you enjoy this take on a Mairon-Redemption arc!****

 **This story was edited by my good friend CoffeeRanger. The details she added are amazing, and blend so seamlessly with what I'd written, the first time I read them I felt like it was a new story! Thank you for your input my friend; though with my later editing you may find elements of this story somewhat changed from the drafts you saw.**

 **The title of this story is Quenya for 'have mercy on' according to the Ambar-Eldaron Quenya-English dictionary.**

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 **Chapter 1**

Silence reigned in the Máhanaxar when Eönwë finished giving his statement. Finally, Manwë spoke.

"Thank you, Eönwë. You may leave us."

The Maia bowed to his lord, and left without a backward glance. The gathered Valar now turned their full attention to the figure kneeling in the middle of the Ring. His head was bowed so far, he all but cowered before them; awaiting their judgement.

After Morgoth's recent defeat, his chief lieutenant, Sauron, had sought out Eönwë. The Maia abjured all his evil deeds, and begged Manwë's herald for forgiveness. When told only the Valar had the power to forgive, or punish, him, the fallen Maia had a change of heart. He had fled, only to run into Oromë less than a day later. The Hunter had recognised him; the copper hair and golden eyes were hard to ignore. Oromë had immediately taken Sauron prisoner, bound him, and escorted him back to Valinor.

Not that it had been a hard job. Even when he'd first caught him, the Hunter had reported to the council earlier, the Maia had not put up a fight. Unlike Morgoth (who had begged, pleaded, kicked, screamed, and sworn at everyone in every language he knew, from the time he was captured, up until the moment he'd been thrown into the Void) Sauron had been silent since Oromë had told him he was under arrest. He hadn't even said anything when told they would return to the West. Where he would stand trial before all the Valar, for the evil deeds he'd done in Middle Earth.

He had offered minimal resistance to everything that had happened since as well. He had done what he was told, whilst keeping his head down. His subservient behaviour (while a welcome change from that of his former master), had nonetheless caused Oromë some lingering concern. Sauron's chosen lord _had_ been defeated, and tossed into the Void, never to rise again until the remaking of the world. But, the Hunter still expected _some_ form of resistance from Morgoth's second-in-command.

Or, at the very least, an escape attempt. Or an attempted seduction. Or an attempt to elicit sympathy or pity from someone. This Maia had earned quite a reputation for his way with words, even before he'd joined Morgoth. For this reason, the Hunter made sure he was the only one who had direct dealings with him on the journey back to Valinor.

Oromë had been ready to deal with whatever trouble Sauron tried to cause on their way. He had even wondered fleetingly, before setting off, if he should have killed him.

Now, looking down at the still figure, Oromë wondered what had stopped him from doing just that. Why the first thought he'd had when he'd seen this Maia, was to capture him, not kill him. Especially as he'd been out hunting down the remnants of Melkor's evil servants. He'd seen first-hand the death, destruction, ruin and heartache all actions perpetrated by the followers of Morgoth inevitably led to. There was no reason to think this Maia would be any different.

Before the Hunter could contemplate these troubling thoughts further, Manwë spoke.

"Lord Námo. List the charges."

The Judge of the Valar stood, regarding the Maia with a dispassionate gaze. The silence in the Ring deepened, taking on an almost oppressive feel, as everyone waited for their Doomsman to speak.

Sauron still did not raise his head. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground in front of him, long hair hiding his face from their view. He was facing Manwë; and, as Námo's throne was opposite the Elder King's, the Judge was at his back. While Sauron had to know he was there (Námo's presence was as subtle as a thunderstorm) a shudder went through his body when the Vala stood.

When Námo began speaking, Sauron hunched his shoulders even more, lowering his head, until it practically touched the ground. Námo's voice held no emotion, radiating nothing but power and authority, as he stated the facts.

And the Maia clearly did not like it.

"Sauron Gorthaur. You stand accused of betraying your first lord, and providing information detrimental to our cause in secret to the enemy, whom you then joined. You stand accused of willingly aiding the fallen Vala Melkor, more commonly known as Morgoth, in his attempts to dominate and destroy Eä. In doing so, you went against the purpose of the Music, and openly rebelled against our creator. You are accused of committing many horrific crimes against both us, and the Children, while in Morgoth's service. These include torture, mutilation, and murder. You have also attained and wielded a power greater than was ever meant for those of your order to wield, and used it to do unspeakable evils."

"How do you answer these charges?"

Silence reigned once more, everyone waiting for Sauron to answer Námo. Yet, despite waiting a while, no answer was forthcoming.

Finally, Námo had had enough. "Speak!"

Watching Sauron as hard as he was, Manwë noted the Maia flinched when Námo projected that bit of extra authority into his voice. The chains around his thin wrists clanked, as he clasped his hands in his lap. His wrists weren't the only part of him that was thin, the King noted absently, waiting for the Maia to answer the charges.

Which took a while. Apart from that small movement, Sauron remained still and silent for a long time. Long after Námo commanded him to speak. Which was odd. From what Manwë remembered, this Maia had never been at a loss over things to say. Though, as far as the Elder King could remember, he'd never been confrontational either.

At least, he hadn't been back when he'd worked for Aulë.

Quite the opposite, from what the King remembered. This Maia was more likely to fade into the background, and avoid drawing attention to himself.

As these memoires surfaced, Manwë realised he did not actually remember much about who this Maia had been before he'd turned to the darkness. And who knew what that darkness had done to him.

"They are true." Sauron finally spoke. His voice was quiet – small – not what Manwë would have expected from Morgoth's chief lieutenant, and had a raspy quality to it. "All true, but for the 'willingly aided' him part. While I did aid him, not all of it was willingly done."

Ulmo sat up straight when he heard that. His eyes bored into the Maia.

"What do you mean, 'not all of it was willingly done'?"

Sauron still did not look up.

"I did do some things of my own accord; that much is true. And I joined him of my own free will, however ill-advised _that_ decision turned out to be. Melkor could – he could be very _persuasive_ when he wanted to be."

There was a hint of _something_ in the Maia's voice as he said that, though his tone remained flat and emotionless. Manwë suddenly desired to see his eyes. Sauron had not raised his head even once since entering the Máhanaxar.

"Look at me." He commandment, not removing his gaze from the form of the Maia before him.

Sauron froze, causing all the Valar to sit up, and fasten their eyes on him. Their expressions ranged from curious to concerned to confused. Except for Námo. The Doomsman's expression was just blank. Even blanker then it had been when they'd sentenced Morgoth, which was saying something. After waiting a few moments, Manwë repeated the order, projecting more authority into his voice.

"Sauron. I said look at me."

While Manwë's words were calm and free from anger, Sauron still flinched at them. But, with the power that radiated off the Vala, he could not disobey a direct order like that. He _was_ a Maia, albeit a fallen one. Their very nature demanded service and obedience to a Vala. Slowly, with obvious reluctance, Sauron raised his head, and looked at Manwë. Or rather, in his direction. His eyes remained scrunched closed.

Manwë frowned. "Open your eyes."

At his command, the Maia's eyes cracked open, revealing a flash of gold. Sauron immediately winced, closing them again. The Maia trembled as he took a deep, shuddering breath, before opening them a second time. This time, they remained open. Dull, golden orbs rose to meet Manwë's clear blue ones, though he continued to squint. The King frowned again as he observed this reaction.

"What is wrong?"

The Maia swallowed.

"The sunlight…it-it hurts."

Understanding dawned on everyone's faces. Morgoth had hated the sunlight with a passion, and sought to blot it out from his fortress. It made sense his chief lieutenant, who'd lived in his shadow for Ages, would also have a problem with it.

Though Sauron was here being judged, Manwë did not intend to torment him. Not before passing a sentence; that would be cruel and uncalled for. With a single thought, clouds formed above his head, blotting out the sun. Soon, a deep twilight engulfed the Máhanaxar. At the Maia's stupefied look, Manwë looked him in the eye.

"I want to read your eyes. That will not happen if you cannot open them, or look at me."

The Elder King was disappointed when Sauron's eyes went as blank and emotionless as his voice had been earlier. Manwë was sure he would find something there. Something to help explain things he'd said before.

Things that were not adding up.

Giving a mental sigh of frustration, Manwë held the Maia's dull golden gaze. His eyes were very dull, the Vala couldn't help noting with some concern. Dull and lifeless. There was no light in them, not even a flicker of the flame that burnt in his soul.

That burnt in all their souls.

"Sauron. You have admitted to joining Morgoth of your own free will. Yet, you also said you were not a willing participant in aiding him. Please explain what you mean."

Sauron shrugged, a look of deep unease flashing through his eyes. His teeth were clenched together so hard, speaking was a struggle.

"I already told you. He could be very persuasive."

Irmo spoke. "You had already joined him by choice. Why did he need to persuade you to aid him further?"

Sauron tried tearing his gaze from Manwë to look in Irmo's direction (the Vala of Dreams and Desires was sitting to Námo's left), but the Elder King did not let him. Looking deep into the Maia's eyes, the Vala saw a flash of fear go through them at Irmo's question. Manwë gave another internal frown.

That fear was the first genuine emotion Sauron had shown since the trial had commenced. And it wasn't fear at his situation, like one might think. Something much darker in origin caused this fear.

That much, Manwë could tell.

Sauron licked his lips, forcibly relaxing his tensed jaw. "I might have joined him by choice, but that did not mean I agreed with everything he did. He-he did not take being questioned well. And was very good at enforcing his will."

Nienna's voice was gentle.

"Did he 'enforce his will' with you?"

Sauron's eyes were carefully blank, though his body tensed even more at the question.

"A few times."

Estë suddenly spoke up, for the first time since the council had begun.

"What forms did this 'enforcement' take?"

Manwë was not prepared for the sudden pain and despair that flashed through Sauron's eyes at the question. For a brief moment, he looked very young and vulnerable, and like he'd given up all hope.

Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Sauron's eyes flickered as if he wished to look away from Manwë, even as his gaze returned to almost expressionless. "It – it took many forms." His eyes darkened for a moment, before returning to their almost blank state. "He always was creative." He finished in a very soft voice.

Manwë sensed they would not get any more information on that subject out of Sauron by mere questioning. It was obvious he was not going to give up the information they sought of his own free will. And the King was not ready to force the Maia just yet. Deciding they'd cross-examined Sauron enough about this for now, Manwë changed tactics.

"What punishment do you think is fitting your crimes? We are here to judge you, and pass a sentence."

Pure, raw panic entered Sauron's eyes at Manwë's words. Though his voice remained steady, there was a visible tremor in it when he next spoke.

"So, judge me."

Varda's voice was gentle. Sitting on Manwë's right, she too, had noticed the panic.

"You aren't going to plead for mercy, or beg us to be kind to you?" She tilted her head to the side, dark eyes searching the Maia's face every bit as deeply as her husband had.

Sauron flinched, hunching his shoulders in.

"No. No, I'll not plead. I know it won't do me any good. Begging and pleading only makes it worse. I knew, from the moment you caught me, such actions were useless. As for mercy…I don't deserve it, so I'll not ask."

Nienna's voice was also gentle, tinted with more sadness than usual.

"Why do you think that? We are not heartless monsters, child, that we would condemn you without hearing your plea."

Sauron did not answer, and the Valië did not compel him to. Instead, she turned her attention to Manwë, communicating with him via thought.

 _There is something not right here. He should not be so accepting of this. It is like…it is like he's given up all hope. That his very will to live has shattered, leaving nothing but despair in his soul._

Their eyes met, before Manwë looked at Námo. Nienna's throne was to his right. The Doomsman had been silent since laying out the original charges. Even though his face had remained hidden in the deep hood of his black robes, Manwë knew he hadn't missed anything that had happened. Linking him into his and Nienna's conversation, Manwë spoke to him.

 _Námo. What do you think?_

The Judge lifted his head at the direct questions, revealing part of his face. His fully unmasked eyes rose to meet Manwë's. The Elder King gave a start at the depth of pain in them. He sometimes forgot why the other Vala preferred to mask his eyes, and obscure his face from view.

 _I agree with Nienna. He is hiding something from us. Something significant. We need to find out what it is, before we pass sentence. Our findings will affect the outcome._

Manwë's eyes widened. Nodding in understanding, he looked back at the Maia. Sauron had since gone back to staring at the ground in front of his knees.

 _Is he strong enough for us to do that right now? I have not touched his mind, but he seems exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. Even if he has committed great evil, and deserves punishment, he is still only a Maia. We can go on like this for hours, but his strength would soon give out…_

Námo's voice was impassive, his eyes not leaving his King's face.

 _You pity him._

Manwë did not even think to deny it.

 _I do._

Nienna's mental voice was hard, as she addressed her brother.

 _And you don't?_

Námo's eyes, still unmasked, flickered to looked at her.

 _You, of all people, know the answer to that, my sister. We are not so very different. But, my first duty is to Atar. I am here to do his will. Nothing more, nothing less._

Nienna, looking chastised, nodded in acceptance of his answer. She then looked back at Manwë.

 _What are you thinking, my King? Do you plan to throw this one into the Void, like the Vala he chose to follow? Or, will you show him mercy? Mercy he does not believe he deserves?_

Manwë's thoughts were conflicted.

 _He has done enough evil to warrant the Void, or eternal imprisonment. Yet, we gave Melkor a second chance after he committed deeds of greater evil. Though he rejected it, that was his choice to make. It needn't have ended like it did. Like any loyal Maia, Sauron followed his lord's orders. And he did abjure of his evil before Eönwë. It's just…_

Manwë trailed off, unsure how to voice his tangled emotions. Námo did it for him, with surprising simplicity.

 _You don't want to condemn a Maia to the same fate as an unrepentant Vala, without offering them a second chance first. Even one who has admitted to doing great evil, and believes himself undeserving of mercy._

Manwë's mental voice was full of pain.

 _Before we left to come to Eä, Atar told us to love and protect the Maiar whom came with us. Like he loved and protected all of us for so long. I am very concerned with what Sauron said about not doing everything willingly; we know Melkor did not hesitate to get the job done by any means he felt necessary. And Sauron's current physical appearance does not help me feel at ease. He has obviously suffered recent abuse, even before Oromë found him. If there is even the_ slightest _chance we can redeem him from the darkness he has lived in for so long…_

Nienna finished the thought.

 _You want to take it._

The rest of the Valar realised Námo, Nienna and Manwë were having a private conversation. They waited, with varying degrees of patience, until one of them decided to share. Once a decision was reached, Manwë looked up, and addressed them all. He continued speaking mentally, so the kneeling Maia would not hear them. Sauron had to know what was happening above him, but gave no outward sign that would give away how he was feeling about any of it.

 _We have agreed Sauron deserves a second chance to do good, if his repentance before Eönwë was indeed sincere. But, we have also agreed he is hiding something from us. We wish to examine his memories, to ensure our mercy is not misplaced, before formally passing judgement. Does anyone have any objections?_

Surprisingly, it was Nessa who spoke first. The Dancer looked troubled.

 _I think that is a good idea. I, for one, am curious why he ran from Eönwë after repenting, and asking for a second chance. Eönwë said he seemed sincere, and, even if he was scared, why run away from a chance at forgiveness?_

Tulkas raised an eyebrow at his wife.

 _It was just a chance. He has done great evil. Maybe he was frightened of the punishment? We threw Morgoth into the Void for his evil deeds._

This was said with not a small bit of relish, though the Wrestler did not mean it to sound like it did. It was just the way he was; everyone knew that. Still, that did not stop Nienna from scowling across at him. Her mental voice was sharp.

 _This is not the same thing at all. Don't forget, Morgoth was first offered a second chance_ after _doing great evil._

The momentary joy left Tulkas's eyes at _that_ memory. Despite his enemy having finally being defeated, he had not forgotten any details of the path that had led there. But, Nienna was not finished speaking.

 _Though he did reject it, and turned back to the darkness. I will admit, he deceived me with his display of repentance. I thought him sincere, and let pity and mercy cloud my judgement. But, I do not detect deception in this Maia. Just…fear. And despair. And something else that I do not have a name for…_

Irmo raised his head, looking at his sister.

 _You can feel it as well?_

It was Manwë who answered.

 _We all can. So, everyone agrees the best course of action is to examine his memories, and base our judgement on what they reveal?_

Everyone but Aulë agreed, with varying levels of conviction. Aulë had said nothing since before the start of the trail. Manwë now looked to the Smith with a raised eyebrow.

 _Aulë. Do you wish to add anything before we begin?_

Aulë's eyes flickered in Manwë's direction, before they returned to the hunched form of the Maia whom had once served him.

 _No. I defer to your decisions in this matter, my King._

Manwë nodded in understanding, standing up to address the Maia.

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 **For anyone who is like 'what the hell does that all mean?' all you need to know for now is Morgoth (Sauron's previous master who caused all the world's problems during the First Age), using his servants (of which Sauron was chief) to carry out his evil agenda. While he stayed in his dark fortress, being all evil and mysterious in typical I-am-an-evil-overlord fashion.**

 **What? Sauron had to learn it from someone.**

 ** **Morgoth is bigger, badder, and nastier in every way then Sauron. He was the one who created orcs, dragons, trolls, balrogs, and all the rest of it. ** **He was the most powerful of the Ainur (the gods of Tolkien's world), and also the most mentally unbalanced. Most of which can be blamed on his Daddy Issues.********

 ** ** ** **Yep, it's that ridiculous. The Silmarillion should be re-named "A History of Melkor's Daddy Issues".********

 ** ** ** **Anyways, there are four more chapters of this story to go, though I am not sure when they'll be posted. I do, however, know that leaving Reviews will speed up the process.********

 ** ** ** **Please don't anger Melkor (who is seething in the Void, planning what method of torture to use in his next flashback scene) by not leaving one. I dread to think what his reaction would be to being ignored yet again...********


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story** **is purely a work of fanfiction, and written for fun. All rights belong to the Tolkien Estate.**

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 **Due to the enthusiastic response I got for Chapter 1, I have decided not to wait for the weekend to post this part. Thank you for the reviews everyone, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **WARNING: The events in this chapter include heavily themes of torture and abuse. While not graphic, if you are easily triggered, please be careful. ** ** **Evil Melkor is evil. You'll understand what I mean by the end. *conspiring smirk*********

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 **Chapter 2**

Manwë turned his full attention back to Sauron. During the time they'd been talking, he'd seemed to shrink in on himself. His hands hadn't left his lap; but he was clutching his fingers together so tightly, his knuckles were white. His head had dropped so he was staring at the ground once more. His matted and snarled copper hair covered the multiple signs of trauma and abuse the King had noticed before, when he'd raised his head – including what looked suspiciously like a fading handprint on one cheek, and bruising around his eyes.

For the first time, Manwë also noticed how small in stature and presence he was. Though he was still a good head taller than the tallest among the Firstborn, compared to the Valar (and most of the other Maiar), he seemed barely larger than a child in that moment.

Manwë shook _that_ fanciful thought away with surprising difficulty, before speaking.

"Sauron. While we are inclined to be merciful if your repentance is genuine, we all feel you are hiding something from us. We need to ensure, if we do offer you mercy, our decision will not be returned with ill. Thus, to determine your fate, we will examine your memories. Depending on what we find…"

He got no further. The Maia's head jerked up at his words. Horror filled his face, and every single muscle in his body tensed.

"No, you can't do that!" He shook his head, frantic. "I refuse to give you permission! You can throw me to the Void, or-or lock me up in Mandos for eternity if you wish! Just please, don't do this!"

This violent and panicked reaction from the up-until-now passive Maia, shocked every single Valar. Manwë felt his earlier suspicions solidifying. Sauron was hiding something from them about his past – something major.

Something they needed to know about, if they were to have a hope of redeeming him.

Manwë spoke in a gentle tone to the now trembling Maia. Sauron was looking at him with wide, terrified golden eyes, his gaze pleading for them to not do this. It was the first real emotion he'd shown since all this had started, Manwë realised with a pang. It was like this Maia was incapable of feeling anything, apart from fear and despair.

"I am afraid you do not have a choice in this matter. We need to ensure whatever we do does not endanger the world again. We will not alter anything we find, child, nor will we touch your inner self. We will just look at your memories. Nothing more, nothing less. It will not hurt; you should barely feel us. Open your mind, child; let us help you."

With those words, Manwë gently, yet firmly, reached out towards Sauron's mind. Despite his reassurance, he was not surprised to encounter strong resistance. Yet, for all the desperation in the Maia's mental shields, they were nowhere near as strong as they should have been. Sauron's shields started cracking at the gentle yet persistent touch, and shattered to pieces the moment Manwë applied firm pressure.

As soon as Manwë's presence entered his mind, Sauron froze, his entire body constricting. His eyes glazed over, his gaze becoming unfocused and dimmed. Then, he screamed – a high shrill note of pure agony.

The Maia fell to the ground, starting to convulse, as an avalanche of memories that had been hiding just behind his shields hit the Valar.

* * *

 _There was so much blood everywhere. Mairon realised with a floating detachment that it was all his. Melkor had not taken kindly to his attempted desertion, and had personally decided to teach him a lesson._

" _Finally, you are back with us."_

 _Mairon blearily looked up to see Melkor – to see his Master – standing over him. He wore an expression of disgust and distain, as if the broken being hanging limply from the chains was less than the dirt he walked on._

 _Melkor tilted his head. "I actually thought for a while there you had died on me. Which would have been an impressive feat, considering the bindings keeping your mind and body trapped here. It would have been a great shame, though, had you died. We haven't even started the main event. Now that you are awake, the real fun can begin."_

 _Mairon had no time to prepare, before his master's presence forcefully entered his mind. He screamed as the full force of Melkor's malicious will slammed into the delicate mental shields that protected his thoughts. His own will and strength was already weakened from the severe physical torture his fana had been put through in the last few days, or was it weeks? He'd lost track of time since being brought down here._

 _Though his mind desperately tried to fight the Vala off, his weak attempts were merely flicked aside. The full force of Melkor's anger and hatred tore into his mind without a pause, cutting through his memories as if with a knife. Mairon screamed in pain as Melkor went through them ruthlessly. He tore open doors, and ripped open cabinets, to get at everything; no part of Mairon's mind was spared this treatment_. _Melkor ripped apart memory after memory, destroying those he found distasteful._

 _Finally, after an eternity, Melkor finished going through the memories, and reached out for the core of Mairon's being. The core created from the flame imperishable before_ _Eä_ _existed. The flame given to him by Eru himself. It made him who he was; it was the essence of his entire existence._

 _Without it, the Maia was nothing. But, Melkor did not intend to destroy it._

 _He had other plans._

 _With fingers that burned like ice – freezing the fire in Mairon's core – the fallen Vala gleefully grabbed hold of the prize he'd wanted all along._

 _The Maia's very soul._

 _Mairon could do nothing but scream, mentally and physically, in agony. Slowly, but surely, his very essence was torn apart bit by bit, and remade into the beast his Master had always wished for._

* * *

The Valar drew back in horror when the memory ended. Tears streamed down Nienna's face, and even Námo looked ill. But, they were given no respite. The memories of excruciating pain continued to wash over them, despite the fact Manwë had since withdrawn from Sauron's mind. It seemed, without the mental shields to keep things at bay, the Maia had no control over his own mind.

Before the Valar could do anything about it, another sharp memory rose unbidden from the tempest. This one was even more painful and bitter then the first.

* * *

 _He awoke to blackness. There was nothing before him – nothing around him. Just emptiness._

 _Mairon felt the terror well up in him. Melkor had threatened to blind him, after all. Had he finally done it?_

 _But he couldn't have – wouldn't have._

 _Would he?_

 _Melkor had no purpose for useless slaves. And he would be useless to the Vala if he couldn't see. Even_ more _useless then he was already…_

 _As his mind focussed, Mairon desperately tried using his power to bring a little light into the blackness. Due to his exhaustion, the best he managed was a few sparks. But, those few sparks were enough to calm him._

 _He was not blinded. Melkor had not stolen_ that _from him. He was just in a dark cell, deep within Utumno, no doubt. He might not like the fathomless darkness, but it was better than being permanently maimed._

 _As his self-awareness returned, Mairon realised his once broken fana had been mostly healed from the physical wounds Melkor had inflicted, when learning of the Maia's intentions to desert him. The Dark Lord must have healed the damage to his fana_ after _he'd blacked out from the psychic assault. Though every part of his body hurt like hell, the only evidence of his Master's torture was rough scabs and jagged scars that now littered his entire form. Melkor had healed him just enough to be functional, and ensure there was no lasting damage. Though much of the pain was still there, it was still a small mercy. Especially considering what else the fallen Vala had done to him._

 _Mairon swallowed to try and dispel some of the dryness in his still raw throat, which had not been healed. After ascertaining his fana would be fine once it finished healing, Mairon took a shuddering breath as he turned to his mind. Time to attempt to put his shattered thoughts into some semblance of order._

 _It was hard. His soul was bruised and violated; and he felt filthy to his very core. His entire being ached, and he felt nothing but despair. But, he pushed on. Regardless of the fact he wanted to curl up in a ball, and sink back into oblivion. He had to know the full extent of what Melkor had done to him._

 _What he'd destroyed._

 _Reaching out with slow hesitation, afraid of what he would find, the Maia touched his own mind. Instantly, his head dropped to his knees, as he grasped his hair in anguish. A soft sob escaped at the realisation most of the happy memories he had were gone, darkness and hatred having replaced them. Delving deeper, the Maia shuddered as he encountered his previously shining core. It was now unrecognisable, almost completely covered with tangled black cords that reeked of malic and evil._

 _The cords smothered the little bit of happiness and joy he'd managed to hold onto for so long. Despite life's best attempts to take them away, they had always been there. They had been his safe haven – his one place of peace and safety in the tempest that had been his life for as long as he could remember. And now, they were gone._

 _Mairon gingerly poked at the binding, sorrow overwhelming him. A sudden, agonising flare of pain greeted the action. Mairon gasped. Curling up in a tight ball, he worked on breathing through it, tears coursing down his grimy cheeks. He was filthy all over, the Maia realised dimly, covered in dried blood, dirt and general grime. A side effect of not having bathed in weeks._

 _The pain eventually died down to a dull ache, allowing Mairon to shakily exhale, and sit up. The Maia hugged his knees in close to his chest, and was very careful in explored the rest of his mind. He made sure not to go anywhere near his bound core again; and instead turned to the memories he'd been left with._

 _Memories of his skills, and all his technical knowledge, were still there, and even in order. That made sense; Melkor would want to keep those intact. They were the reason the Dark Vala had wanted him in the first place – for the talent his hands possessed, and the knowledge in his mind. To his surprise, he could also remember the very beginnings of Arda. When the Ainur had sang Eä into existence._

 _He even found a happy memory here and there. Like the time he'd tricked Eönwë and Olórin into washing their hair with honey and eggs (and neglected to tell them to rinse it out in cold water. They had not been happy). And the picnic he'd had with Ilmarë, Eönwë, Olórin and Arien in_ _Almaren, before the lamps had been made_ _._

 _Mairon realised he also remembered the moment his brother told him he hated him, and walked off. A single tear, bigger than all the others, escaped and trickled down his cheek at the memory. That had been just before he'd left to join Melkor. It was also the last time he'd seen Olórin. The loss of his big brother through a silly mistake he'd made, was still one of the most painful memories he had. Even more painful than those of his sister's cool indifference towards him. It made perfect sense Melkor would want him to keep it. It was yet another reminder of his failure and uselessness._

 _While all the memories he regretted appeared intact, the memories he remembered fondly were few. The empty spaces in his mind where they had once been, were now filled with hatred and bitterness. Mairon gave a weary sigh, realising all his negative memories were indeed fully intact. Melkor had only targeted those that made him happy. Those memories and desires that made him different to the fallen Vala. The memories and feelings that made him,_ _ **him**_ _. Without them, Mairon did not know who he was. Though, he was determined not to become what Melkor wanted._

 _A heartless monster. Like the fallen Vala was._

 _Oh, how he wished he had never left Aulë's service! Or better yet, that he had stayed in the Timeless Halls. Sure, his life under Aulë might have been lonely and difficult, with the Smith ignoring him unless he messed up, and most of the other Maiar not liking him. But, no one had ever hurt him like this while he'd been there. Aulë would never have stopped him if he'd tried to leave his service. In fact, he had not stopped him._

 _Though Mairon_ _ **had**_ _left in secret, too scared of the Smith to tell him what he was doing. The fact no one had attempted to come after him, or tried to get him back, stung more than he cared to admit. Even though he had no idea why they would want to. It had always been made clear to him he was nothing to any of them; so, why would they bother trying to get him back?_

 _They were probably glad to see the last of him. Had celebrated his departure even. Mairon swallowed down the nausea_ that _thought caused, swiftly turning his mind to other matters._

 _He wished he'd been too scared of Melkor to even try leaving his service. He was certainly too scared of him now to try it again. Not that he would ever be able to escape anymore. With so much of Melkor's malice and rage grafted onto his soul, he was doomed to obey the Vala he hated and feared forever. Melkor owned his very will. Even if he left, the dark bindings on his mind and soul would ensure he was unable to resist coming back if his Master called for him._

 _He was now a slave to the Vala. No matter what happened, he would never be free again. He was bound to do Melkor's will until the day he perished. Or the day the world was unmade._

 _Either way, he was doomed._

 _With that thought, the last bit of happiness and hope Mairon had hang onto for so long, shattered._

* * *

The fourteen Valar were silent as the Maia's tortured memories continued to wash over them. Most wore shocked and/or horrified expressions at what they were finding out. But several, namely Tulkas and Aulë, were outraged at Melkor's cruel violation of the Maia's delicate mind and soul. Námo had erased the expression of horror from his face after the first memory. His power once again masked his eyes; betraying nothing of his thoughts or feelings. Nienna was wailing like her heart would break. Irmo and Estë had moved their thrones closer together at some point. They were clutching each other, staring at the Maia in silent horror. Even Manwë was too stunned to fully process what he was seeing.

He found he could not even begin to comprehend the sheer brutality his _own brother_ had subjected Mairon to. As the Valar sat there in stunned and horrified silence, another memory pushed itself to the fore…

* * *

" _You will lose. The entire host of the Ainur have come to stand against you. You are even crazier than I thought, if you still think you can win this."_

 _Sauron kept his head bowed. His eyes were fixed on the floor in front of his knees as he said those words. Words that could condemn him to death or torture. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground. But, he no longer cared. If Morgoth killed him, then this nightmare would finally end. And, if the Dark Lord decided torture was the way to go…_

… _as he had just pointed out, an army of Valar was on these shores. All were intent on seeing the Dark Lord permanently destroyed. And, unlike last time, they would not leave any stone unturned._

 _Melkor would be defeated, and Sauron would be found… sooner or later. While there might not be much of him left by then, at least he knew the torture would have an eventual end. But, to his intense surprise and extreme unease, the Dark Lord merely laughed at his words._

" _I know, my little wolf. I know I will lose this, but I'm not going without a fight. I always knew this day would come; but look at all I've achieved in the meantime! Oh, the Valar might win this final battle. But I – I won the war a long time ago!"_

 _The Maia said nothing in response. There was nothing to say. Morgoth suddenly broke off laughing, regarding his lieutenant with a shrewd look._

" _I'm not the only one who will lose in this. If they ever got hold of you, my little wolf, you would realise how merciful I actually am."_

 _Sauron strove to repress a shudder as he heard his Master rise from his throne, and walk down the steps towards him. Close was never good._

 _Close meant pain. Close meant failure._

" _You think what I did was bad," Morgoth continued, "how would you like fourteen of them in your head? Just think of what they could do to you! And with all the evil you've done…"_

 _Sauron kept his eyes trained to the floor, even as Melkor's boots stopped in his line of vision. His Master's soft whisper floated down to him, the sweet tones belying the venom in the words. "Well, it wouldn't take them long to throw you into the Void. They would cast you there without a second thought, a bodiless spirit to be tortured for eternity, once they see everything!"_

 _Sauron shuddered in revulsion. They both knew he feared being a bodiless spirit in the Void above almost anything else. Even through the terror the thought caused, he kept his expression carefully blank, and his gaze fixed on the floor. Seeing his reaction, the fallen Vala chuckled._

" _My, I have trained you well. For a while there, I wondered if I had made a mistake in taking you. You did have some darker tendencies, but the goodness in you was often blinding in how obvious it was. But, then I realised even your goodness could be useful to me. After all, one only fully understands what they've lost, when they once had it."_

 _His steps moved around behind Sauron, causing the Maia to tense even further. He hated not being able to see what his Master was doing – hated not having at least a second of warning before the attacks. But, he knew the pain would be worse if he dared to move. And so, he remained kneeling; braced for an attack he knew would come, but had no way of predicting when._

" _I wanted an excuse to hurt you for a long time, my little wolf; to break you down and rebuild you into something stronger and better and more useful for my purposes. But you were so annoyingly_ good _at your job for so long. I did not want to do anything that could have a negative impact on your usefulness. Then, just when I was starting to wonder what I was going to do, you tried to betray me. Your attempted desertion gave me the perfect excuse to do what I'd been craving to do for so long: destroy you."_

" _Do you know, when I took your happy memories, I almost felt pity for you? Or what I imagine pity must feel like? It seemed almost a shame to remodel you; your mind was already an incredible thing to behold. But I made it even better, even darker, smothering that pesky light and goodness that was your only flaw. It was a pity I could not destroy them completely; but only Eru himself has that kind of power. Still, I was able to corrupt you, and bury all that goodness so deep, I doubt anyone but Eru will ever be able to reach it. If nothing else, I've ensured that, no matter what happens to me, you will never be free from my influence."_

 _Sauron shuddered as the Vala returned to his forefront, cupping his jaw with a deceptively gentle hand. A hand the Maia knew was anything but gentle. However, while his mind knew this, the momentary comfort had him subconsciously leaning into the touch, seeking more. But the fallen Vala was a master at deception. Seconds later, a burning pain on his jaw caused Sauron to cry out, as he cowered away from it._

 _His hand flew to his cheek, gingerly brushing along the blister that was already beginning to form. Morgoth's palm glowered white with ice, as he threw his head to the roof, and laughed manically. The sound echoed through the vast caverns of his throne room, until it seemed his voice was coming from everywhere all at once._

" _You don't deserve kindness, Little Wolf. Nor pity or mercy. You have done too much. No. You are mine, and always shall be._ Never _forget that."_

* * *

 **I warned you Melkor was evil. That guy is bi-polar psychopath.**

 **Notes: It is my headcannon here that Mairon, being a creature of fire and earth, is pretty much burn-proof. Fire does not bother him. However, ice is the exact opposite. It causes him great pain, and even burns if it is held to his skin for too long. I wonder how many times Melkor took advantage of that...?**

 **Olórin and Mairon being brothers is an idea credited to AzureSkye23.**

 **The next chapter is pretty much ready to go, and feedback will speed up the posting process...*hint, hint***


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story** **is purely a work of fanfiction, and written for fun. All rights belong to the Tolkien Estate.**

* * *

 ** **Chapter 3****

The deluge of memories ended, though Morgoth's evil laugh continued to hang in the air. Sauron fell to the ground with one last mental scream, before going deathly still. He wasn't unconscious, but neither was he truly aware. His eyes hung at half-mast – glassy and unfocussed. All that could be heard in the Máhanaxar was his ragged breathing.

For a moment after the memories stopped, none of the Valar could move, or say anything. They were in too much shock.

Nienna was the first to move. Possibly because she was more accustomed to sorrow and brutality then most of the others were. Without a word, she descended her throne, walking over to Sauron. Kneeling next to the broken Maia, the Valië gently lifted his head up off the cool stone. She rested it in her lap, running a soothing hand over his scalp. Sauron did not respond to her ministrations. In fact, he did not seem aware of her presence. He continued staring blankly ahead, fine tremors running through his body. Being forced to re-live such traumatic memories had driven him practically catatonic.

Barely a breath later, Námo joined his sister. Laying a gentle hand over the Maia's brow, the Doomsman allowed some of his own innate power to flow out. He would not enter the Maia's head, but did what he could to ease the intense pain Sauron was in. He constructed a temporary shield around the jumbled thoughts, to protect the Maia's mind from everything battering it from simply being in the same room as others. While it did nothing to bring him back from wherever in his head he'd retreated to, the tremors stopped as the gentle comfort softly encompassed his broken mind.

"Well. I was…not expecting that."

It was Irmo who had broken the silence. The Vala of Dreams, Desires and Visions was sitting frozen on his throne, though his eyes were fixed on the Maia his sister was holding. Tearing his eyes away for a moment, Irmo regarded Manwë in bewilderment and horror.

"What do we do now?"

Manwë just shook his head. He was still processing all he'd seen, and did not yet have an answer. No one else said anything, and Námo and Nienna continued to try and comfort the unresponsive Maia. Even Námo removing the iron cuffs and chains from his wrists did not garner a response. It was not long before Estë joined them, to see if she could do anything to help. The other Valar started recovering from their shock by this point. But, no one yet had any answers. Oromë was the first to break the unintentional silence to answer Irmo.

"That is a good question. What do we do with him now? I think we can all agree sending him to the Void is not the best idea, due to Morgoth's unwarranted brutality towards him. Yet, he has himself admitted to joining Morgoth voluntarily, betraying us, and doing much evil of his own volition. Those deeds can't be allowed to go unpunished."

Irmo gave the Hunter an unimpressed look. He might not be the most powerful or high-ranked among the Valar, but the fire that burned in his bright silver eyes in that moment reminded Manwë why Irmo Lórien was _not_ to be trifled with.

"After what he's gone through, making him suffer more punishment would be cruel. It would make us no better than the one who did him such grievous harm. The one we have always claimed to be better then."

Tulkas shifted in his seat, and hesitated, before speaking slowly. He was visibly putting a lot more thought into each word then he usually did, and was the most subdued Manwë had ever seen him. While the Wrestler came across as brash and uncaring, he had a good heart. Seeing what had happened to Sauron had deeply upset him.

"Not necessarily. There are plenty of ways to punish people that don't involve pain. He has suffered enough of _that_ already. I would not see him suffer more of the same. No matter what he's done."

These were deep words, coming from the Vala whom lived for fighting evil, and enjoyed beating his enemies with his bare hands above all else. At his words, Yavanna looked up.

"Yes, there are, but I'm not sure he is strong enough right now to survive any of them." The Queen of the Earth closed her eyes, shaking her head. "His mind…" She opened her eyes, glancing at those around her. "I have never encountered a creature so broken. Never. Not even in Utumno, was anyone in this much pain. I…I…"

The Valië's shoulders shook as she started sobbing. Without a word, Aulë left his throne to hug her. Yavanna buried her head in her husband's chest. Aulë rubbed her back with more tenderness than one would expect from someone as large and intimidating as the Smith.

"Shhhhhh. It's going to be okay, my love. We will look after him, and help him heal. I have failed him once already. I will not fail him a second time."

Ulmo gave the Smith a sharp look.

"What makes you say that?"

Aulë looked across at the Lord of Water; guilt and grief etched into his features.

"You saw his memories. Over half the reason Mairon defected to Morgoth in the first place, was because of my behaviour towards him."

Oromë spoke up.

"Yes, we all saw his memory of you. Is there a specific reason for him to have felt that way?"

Aulë gave a slow nod.

"Yes. I was so busy all the time, trying to undo the damage Morgoth wrought on the world, that I did not have a lot of time to spend with the Maiar whom served me. Not after their initial training ended, and especially towards the end. And when I did, while I admired their efforts, I also critiqued them when necessary. Not that this young one's work needed much critiquing. He was one of the best I have ever had the privilege of teaching. However, I can understand how my neglect would make him feel like I did not care. Praise is not something I give lightly. And, I was not in the mood to praise anything back then. This, what has happened to him, is my fault. If there is any way to reclaim him from the darkness, and make amends to him for my deeds, then I will see it done."

Ulmo spoke quietly.

"I do not think it is entirely your fault, though I can see how you might have influence his decisions. But remember, it is thanks to you Ossë came back to me. You convinced him to stay with us. I see the similarities between him, and Mairon's situations. Though Mairon has suffering far more than Ossë ever did. I knew Morgoth was evil; but even I did not know the true depths of his cruelty. Manwë." He turned to face the Lord of all the Valar, straightening as he did so. "I support Aulë in this. I will take responsibility for any consequences that may result if our decision goes ill."

Manwë acknowledge them with a nod. His expression was grim, but all one had to do was look at his eyes to know he was not handling this as well as he appeared. Truth be told, none of them were handling it very well. To know Morgoth (who had once been one of them) had done such a cruel and brutal thing to a Maia in his service…

Varda, who had been silent since the memories finished, now spoke in a soft voice. But, the effect her words had on those gathered was so immense, she might as well have shouted.

"I agree with Ulmo and Aulë. Morgoth violated his mind and soul _before_ the Battle of the Powers. _Before_ we defeated and arrested him the first time. _Before_ we offered him redemption. _Before_ we realised he was evil, and not about to change his ways. Can we truly blame Sauron for what occurred afterwards, when Morgoth went back to Middle Earth after deceiving us all? He was full of rage against both us and the Children; determined to get revenge by any means possible. By Sauron's own memories, he was kept in thrall to him against his will for thousands of years _before_ that happened. His very fëa was torn apart, and shaped into something he never wished for it to be. Can we say for certain that _any_ of his actions after this were of his own volition? That _anything_ he has done, since even before the Battle of the Powers, was by choice, and not forced upon him?"

She said no more, but she didn't have to. The implications of what she had said reverberated around the circle, as every single Vala was forced to re-evaluate the beliefs they had held for so long. The conclusion they all come to was horrifying. Made even more so by the fact they had given Morgoth a second chance _after_ he had hurt Mairon in such a brutal way.

He had already committed inexcusable crimes, when he'd been set free in Valinor without restrictions, allowed to do as he pleased once more.

That thought, more than anything, helped those struggling with deciding what to do, to make up their minds. Nessa, Tulkas, Oromë and Vána (the last of who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, having nothing to add), now agreed with Aulë's decision. Vairë, who also hadn't said anything since the council started, gave her husband a questioning look.

"Námo?"

The Doomsman looked up at her. He was still sitting with Nienna and Sauron; Estë had since gone back to her throne, and was talking quietly with Irmo. His powers masked his eyes, concealing his emotions once more. But, Vairë could feel her husband's deep pain very acutely through their marital bond.

"Yes?"

"Do you agree? What are you thinking?"

Námo gently pushed a strand of hair out of the Maia's face, before replying.

"Yes. I agree he deserve a chance. But, there must be boundaries in place. To protect both him, and us."

Manwë gave him a keen look.

"Are you suggesting we bind him?"

The Doomsman frowned.

"No. At least, not in the traditional way. That would require too much contact with his mind. He is not strong enough for that at present. Right now, his mind is broken and unguarded. It would take very little to tip him over the edge. He is only as calm as he is, because I'm shielding him. He is incapable of doing it himself right now. And, he will need to do a lot of healing before he is remotely capable of doing so again. We need some way to both shield his mind, and bind the dark powers Morgoth gave him where they can harm no one. Until he is strong enough for us to attempt to remove them from his mind and soul. If he ever is."

Vairë's voice was soft.

"He is not strong enough to do that now?"

Námo shook his head.

"If we tried to do that right now, it would drive him insane. If it didn't kill him first."

Manwë nodded his acceptance of Námo's observations, before looking around at the other Valar.

"So, we need some way to shield his mind, and ensure he cannot access the dark sorcery magic he was given. Does anyone have any suggestions as to what we can do?"

Aulë spoke up, though his voice was somewhat hesitant. He had separated from his wife at some point, and now each sat on their respective thrones.

"I do. I could make him a collar that would do all of that. But, it would bind his natural Maiarin powers as well. The Maiar may not be as strong as we are, but their abilities are almost identical in nature. It would be too complicated to try and differentiate between them. Given time, I might be figure out a way to do it, but…"

Manwë shook his head.

"We don't have time for you to do that. We need a solution as soon as possible. How long will it take to make this collar?"

The Smith shrugged.

"One that binds all his powers? A day. At most."

Manwë suspected Aulë could probably make the proposed collar in far less time than a day. But, he also realised the Smith wanted time to make sure it was perfect. He still cared for the Maia who had once served him, and was horrified at what had been done to him.

They all were.

Oromë, who had been silent for some time, now spoke.

"A collar is a good idea. But, it is only a short-term solution. We still have much to decide on, including what type of punishment -"

Irmo shot him a look that promised interesting dreams and desires if not adhered to.

"If any," Oromë quickly amended, "he shall receive once he is a bit stronger. Stop looking at me like that, Lórien. I do not wish to see him hurt anymore then you do. I am simply concerned for the future."

Irmo's eyes softened.

"I am as well. Especially _his_ future."

Manwë, secretly relieved _that_ was sorted without him having to intervene, now spoke up calmly.

"We will sort that out in time. I'm not suggesting we trust him just yet. That would be foolish. However, we owe it to him to undo the damage Morgoth wrought. He deserves to be looked after and protected, and given an opportunity to earn our trust. Allowing him some time to heal, before we subject him to any type of punishment for the deeds he did of his own volition, is the right thing to do. For now, having his powers bound will be punishment enough. Don't forget, he must learn to trust us as well. This will only work if he wants to be redeemed, and serve us willingly by choice. And that can only happen _after_ we prove to him we are different to his previous master."

Varda nodded in agreement.

"That is very true, my husband. Sauron has no more reason to trust us, then we have to trust him. In fact, considering what we just learnt, he has less reason. For too long, service to him has meant being forced to do whatever his master desires, without any thought for his own safety or well-being. Trust has been almost non-existent in his life; and has always led to pain and suffering. Teaching him otherwise will be a long and difficult task."

All the Valar sobered at that thought, the true magnitude of the situation sinking in. Finally, Manwë spoke.

"Námo. Would you…?"

The Vala was nodding before Manwë had even properly asked the question.

"Yes. I will take Sauron back to Mandos, and look after him until Aulë has the collar ready. Irmo." The Doomsman turned to look at his brother. "With your help, I may even be able to convince him to come back to us by then. It will help if he is conscious for the sentencing."

The younger of the _Fëanturi_ immediately nodded.

"I will do what I can."

With that, the trial was adjourned until the next evening. One by one, the Valar disappeared, until only Námo, Nienna and Irmo were left. Námo, who was still kneeling next to Nienna and Sauron, now reached out, taking the unresponsive Maia from his sister. Nienna's reluctance to hand him over was plain, and she look at Sauron with a sad smile as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Though still incognizant and almost-unconscious, the young Maia tensed at the change in contact. He went to pull his head away, before freezing in the movement. He subconsciously recoiled, and cowered, as if waiting for a blow for his insolence. Námo frowned as a wave of _pain, fear, disobedience, must obey_ flared from behind the shields he had erected. Irmo's eyes widened as he received an unprepared for avalanche of negative emotions and thoughts so strong, it left him momentarily reeling.

Nienna, while not as affected as the Fëanturi, sensed these feelings as well. The sorrow on her face deepened even further.

 _Look after him well, brother-mine._

Námo's eyes met hers.

 _You know I will._

Nienna's smile grew even sadder, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. Her hands ghosted over Sauron's hair, though she did not touch him. She feared it would cause him more distress then it was worth.

This Maia was the most broken creature she had ever encountered. And that broke her heart.

 _I know. He could not be in better hands._

* * *

Sundown the next day saw all fourteen Valar once again assemble in the Máhanaxar. Námo was the last to arrive, and was a little late; he brought a conscious but exhausted Sauron with him. Ignoring the other Valar, the Doomsman helped the unsteady Maia kneel in the middle of the ring. After saying something that he received a tired nod to, Námo took his seat opposite Manwë.

The Elder King stood up.

"Sauron. Considering recent events, we have unanimously decided to grant you mercy, and offer you a second chance to live here with us. However, it comes with several restrictions and conditions. Know, if you ever relapse into your evil ways, the consequences will be great. Though we will do everything in our power not to let that happen, we can only help you if you allow us to. This is the only chance you will get. Lord Námo. List the conditions."

Having spent the previous day and night in the care of the Vala, Sauron did not react when Námo stood up. Even though the Doomsman was once again at his back (and his presence was as grim as ever), the Maia seemed to have lost a great deal of the fear that had been present the previous day.

Either that, or he was just too tired to care what happened to him anymore. Manwë thought that was probably a more likely explanation, though he hoped a little of the former played into it.

It would make what was coming easier.

"Mairon. The conditions of your second chance are as follows. Your powers, both your natural Maiarin abilities, and those dark ones granted to you by the one known as Morgoth, will be bound. They will remain that way, until such a time as we decide you are strong enough for us to remove Morgoth's influence from your soul. For this purpose, you will wear a collar until the time of our choosing. Do you accept this judgement?"

The Maia swallowed; the skin around his eyes and mouth tightening slightly. Then, he gave a sharp jerk of his head.

"I do."

Manwë nodded.

"Lord Aulë?"

Mairon flinched, and then froze, as his first lord rose and came over to him. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look anyone in the eyes. The only time he moved was when Aulë opened the collar. Then, though a shudder ran through his body, Mairon tilted his head, exposing his scarred neck to ease the Smith's actions. Another shudder ran through him, and he closed his eyes as if in pain, as the collar locked with a soft _click_ , sitting comfortably just below his collarbone. Manwë knew the perceived pain was not from the collar (Aulë had put a great deal of effort into ensuring the Maia would not even feel it) and he frowned at the signs there was even more to the abuse this poor child had suffered at his brother's hands then they had seen.

Though, his lips did twitch upwards when he saw the collar Aulë had formed. Indeed, _collar_ was a poor name for the ornament adorning Sauron's neck. The Smith had fashioned it so it looked more like an elegant necklace. Though Manwë knew it had a tilkal core (as it was the only metal capable of restraining the dark power the Maia wielded), all that could be seen on the exterior was a finely cast band of shining gold. It was set at regular intervals with tiny red gems that matched the Maia's hair, and had intricate patterns carved into it.

It was truly a work of art. Aulë had clearly gone to a lot of trouble to make something that would not have looked out of place on one of the Valar.

After ensuring the collar was on correctly, Aulë addressed Sauron directly.

"This necklace will both bind your powers, and shield your mind until you are able to. You will find the mechanism in it functions like any normal mental shield would. It will protect you from the thoughts of others, and keep anyone out of your mind that you don't allow access. But, it will still enable you to let someone in, if you so desire. That function works on conscious thought, but otherwise, it will shield your mind without you having to think about it. I made the shield strong; even a Vala would have a hard time getting through it if you didn't willingly let them in."

The Maia nodded in understanding; he seemed much calmer when he heard that. Aulë then turned to address the other Valar.

"I have designed it to only be removed by myself, Lord Manwë, or Lord Námo."

The Doomsman raised an eyebrow at Manwë, whose satisfied look showed this had been his doing. Aulë resisted the urge to run a hand through the Maia's recently brushed hair (his physical appearance was vastly improved from the last time he'd been here. His form also seemed different, though Aulë couldn't put his finger on exactly what had changed), and returned to his throne in silence. The most pressing concern out of the way, Manwë nodded to Námo to conclude the Maia's judgement.

"In addition to the collar, you will be remanded to my care in Mandos, until I deem your mind healed enough for you to begin proving your sincerity to us. When that time comes, subject to mine and Lord Manwë's approval, you will be permitted to choose a Vala to serve with."

"Until then, you will be given your own living quarters in Mandos. At least at first, you will not be allowed to leave them without me being present. You will also not be permitted to wander around freely in Valinor, unless I give you permission, and a Vala is with you. This is partially for your own safety, as well as that of others. Do you accept these restrictions?"

"Yes." Sauron whispered.

Námo sat down. The judgment having been passed and accepted, Manwë stood to conclude the trial.

"Sauron. Before we conclude these proceedings, do you have any final words?"

The Maia nodded slowly. Glancing up, he spoke in a voice that was no louder than a whisper.

"Could… Could I please have my… my original name back?"

All the Valar (except Námo) blinked, many a taken back at such a simple request. As far as they were concerned, the Maia had never lost his name. Bewildered, Manwë looked across at Námo for help. Understanding dawned in his eyes as the Judge's mind briefly touched his. Not for the first time, Manwë wondered just what had happened between Námo and the Maia in Mandos during the last twenty-four hours.

"If you wish to be known once again as Mairon, then that is what you shall be called from this moment onwards by all the Valar. Do you have any more questions?"

The Maia shook his head. Manwë brought the trail to a swift conclusion.

"I declare this trail ended, and justice served."

With that, the Valar began to leave, though some remained huddled in groups, talking. Manwë left his throne, and walked into the middle of the ring to help Mairon stand. Aulë had cornered Námo, and was deep in conversation. Once the exhausted Maia gained his feet, Manwë placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I do not want to see you hurt more, but this chance is the only one you will get. Use it wisely, Mairon. Don't let us regret showing mercy this time."

The Maia looked up at the King. His exhaustion was evident in every line of his body, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes that hadn't been there before. That small spark alone convinced Manwë he had done the right thing.

He just hoped he wouldn't end up regretting it. But, somehow, he didn't think he would.

"I will. And you won't." Mairon stated, bowing as low as his exhausted body would allow, and almost landing back on the ground for his efforts. Manwë held him steady until he'd regained his balance. "Thank you."

* * *

 **The collar idea is lifted from AzureSkye's story, The Bond Between Brothers.**

 **That concludes the main part of the story. However, we still have a Missing Scene, and then a Melkor point-of-view scene, left to go.**

 **Feedback is appreciated, and may help ensure Valinor is not burnt to a crisp. Which is a very real possibility right now. The Plot Bunnies woke up this morning muttering something about explosions in the Blessed Lands happening in the Sequel...**


	4. Missing Scene

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story** **is purely a work of fanfiction, and written for fun. All rights belong to the Tolkien Estate.**

 **Missing scene. What exactly happened between Mairon and Námo in Mandos in the time it took Aulë to make the necklace?**

* * *

Námo sat in silence next to the Maia, shielding his mind to enable him to get some much-needed rest. Once they arrived in Mandos, and had situated him in a temporary room, the Fëanturi had coaxed the Maia's consciousness back from wherever it had retreated to during the interrogation. Sauron had not been very coherent, even when he had surfaced, and had soon fallen asleep. The Fëanturi let him. Only Eru knew how much sleep he'd gotten during the last few Ages. Irmo had ensured he would not have nightmares, before leaving to deal with his own domain. In the aftermath of the War of Wrath, Lórien was rather busy. It was far busier than the Halls of Mandos.

Which was why the Lord of Mandos could sit, watching over the Maia while he slept. The poor creature would need to regain some of his strength before having to face all fourteen of the Valar again. Námo allowed himself a heavy sigh, thinking back on what they had learnt from examining the Maia's memories.

Sauron had been through hell at the hands of Morgoth. He had suffered atrocities no one should ever be subjected to, no matter who they were, or what they had done. How he was even still alive and functioning as well as he was, was a mystery to the Vala. The Maia's mind and soul must be very strong, to have weathered that kind of abuse without being destroyed. Námo knew healing it would not be an easy task.

In truth, he did not know if it even could be healed.

Thanks to his foresight, he knew what would happen after Sauron was collared and sentenced. Manwë had decided the Maia would remain in his care for the foreseeable future. His sensitivity to sunlight put Lórien out of the picture as a viable place for him to begin healing, which would normally be what happened.

Which was a tad unfortunate. His brother's domain would be the perfect place for Sauron's tortured soul to find rest and balm. However, it wouldn't work in this case, and no one else had the facilities to deal with the kind of damage Sauron had sustained. Not even Nienna was fully equipped to deal with this, thought she would doubtlessly play a large part in his healing.

All of which meant he was stuck in Mandos until further notice.

Not that Námo minded keeping Sauron here. His Halls would offer the Maia the best chance at healing. Possibly even more then Lórien would have, come to think about it. While Irmo dealt primarily with the fëar of those whom had an incarnate form, Námo himself was used to dealing with the broken and often traumatised fëar themselves that came through Mandos. There had been a lot of them over time. Still was, in fact. And, while Sauron wore an incarnate form, the Ainur were first and foremost spirits.

And this one was most definitely broken and traumatised. In fact, Námo had never seen a creature as damaged as the Maia was. That a good deal of it had been caused by someone who had once been a Valar, (and a _brother_ to Manwë!) was even worse.

Námo knew they owed it to Sauron to try and fix what Morgoth had destroyed in him. Their _Atar_ had created the Maia to help and serve them in their endeavours. In return, the Valar were supposed to love and care for them, and provide for them security and safety.

All of which they'd so far failed to do with this one.

The Vala of the Dead sighed again, looking at the Maia's sleeping features. He'd hoped Sauron would have been able to relax once he and Irmo had gotten him settled. However, that had not happened. Though he was resting, Sauron's body was still tense. He was curled as tight as possible, in one corner of the bed. His facial muscles were still tense – as they had been since Nienna had sought to comfort him at the Máhanaxar.

Námo wished he could let Sauron continue sleeping, but they had to be present at the trial in an hour. Which meant waking the slumbering Maia, and hopefully making him look more presentable. Even if all he could do was wash his face, and brush the knots out of the tangled copper hair.

Messy hair never made anyone feel very good.

That was something the elven fëar, especially, often struggled with when they first arrived in Mandos. Though a fëa did not technically have hair (or anything solid or discernible for that matter, being at their core a formless spirit), for some, the illusion of looking after their hair had helped them to heal.

The Vala in charge of the dead had learnt a lot about looking after a fëa since the first traumatised Child had arrived in his Halls.

Námo wasn't sure he could do much else to help the Maia look better. The tangled hair framed a thin, heavily-lined (and extremely dirty) face. Sauron's cheeks and eyes were sunken, and the dark smudges under his eyes looked more like bruises than anything else. Námo suspected they _were_ bruises. The still-visible handprint on his cheek, which Námo knew had been left there by Morgoth, only made him look worse.

The Doomsman could also see scars on the exposed skin (especially around his neck; though Námo was aware most of those had been put there by Huan) and suspected the Maia's clothing was hiding even more. Even in peaceful slumber, his features contorted in pain, as he curled into himself. His arms were hugged tightly to his chest; his body angled into his hands, as he made himself as small as possible.

Námo gave another long sigh, dropping his head into his hands.

They _had_ spectacularly failed in their job to look after and love this child. But there was time to fix that – if fix it they could. Still, it was no good just thinking about all the steps they had to take in the process. It was time to act on that knowledge. And, the first step was to get Sauron up and moving, so they could put this whole unfortunate trial behind them.

"Little One. Time to wake up."

Námo placed his hand on Sauron's brow, hoping to gently ease him back to the waking world. The last thing the Vala wanted was for him to panic while still half asleep.

Even though it was a very possible outcome.

The Maia stirred at his light touch, though it was a while before he was aware enough to open his eyes. Námo withdrew his hand, waiting until Sauron was blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling in half-coherent confusion, to speak.

"You're okay."

Námo kept his voice soft and gentle, hoping to prevent a scene. But, he was not surprised when the mere sound of his voice caused the Maia to jump a foot into the air. Sauron shied violently away from him, all but throwing his body as far from the Vala as he could. Still half out of it, and not being familiar with his surroundings, this action resulted in him falling off the side of the bed. A pained yelp escaped him, before he curled up in as small a ball as his thin frame would allow. He lay there, arms covering his head, body trembling.

"Don't hurt me! I'll… I'll do whatever you want. Just please, leave me be! I beg of you!"

Pity filled the Vala's heart at the Maia's panicked and fearful reaction to his mere presence.

"Peace, Little One." He stated softly, stepping back to give the Maia further space. "I am not going to hurt you. You are safe here. Everything will be okay."

Námo allowed a little more of his soothing energy to encompass Sauron, and patiently waited. Eventually, when nothing bad happened to him, the Maia calmed down enough to uncurl, and look up at the Vala. While Námo was still giving him plenty of space, he had moved, so they were now on the same side of the bed.

While it was clear the Maia was still terrified, there was also a spark of curiosity in those dull golden orbs. But, it was soon smothered by the resignation and hopelessness that filled Sauron. The Maia dropped his gaze, hunching in on himself more then what the Vala would have thought possible.

"Am I your prisoner?"

Námo regarded him with a steady look.

"Not officially. Right now, I am just looking after you. This is a temporary situation; until you are formally sentenced."

Sauron gave a nervous swallow.

"What is taking you so long?"

Námo raised an eyebrow.

"Several things. Namely, we want you to be coherent for it. We also have a few arrangements to make beforehand, regarding the restrictions you will be placed under."

Sauron sat up a bit straighter, frowning.

"You're… you're not throwing me to the Void?"

"No. We came to a unanimous decision you do not deserve that fate."

The Maia's genuine confusion was palpable.

"Why? After all the crimes I have committed, all the evil I've done…"

His voice trailed off. It was clear he was unable to comprehend why he didn't deserve the Void. Was unable to comprehend why anyone else would even entertain the _thought_ that he didn't deserve to be punished like that.

The sight of one whom his own nature demanded he protect look so lost and unsure, brought a sharp pang to Námo's chest.

By this stage, Sauron was sitting up; his back resting against the side of the bed. His knees were still hugged to his chest, as he tried to make himself as small and non-threatening as possible. He was also eyeing Námo like he expected the Vala to pounce on him at any moment, and drag him off to the Void.

Despite what he'd just been told.

Námo silently sighed.

"And what about the crimes committed against you? Crimes that compelled you to do much of that evil? Did you even have the option of saying 'no' to any of it?" Sauron dropped his head as the Vala continued, utter conviction in his voice. "It is a no-win situation, no matter what way you look at it. We cannot be sure _anything_ you have done since then was voluntary, or by choice. Therefore, we have decided to show mercy and pity."

"I don't deserve pity, or mercy. Not after all I've done."

"Given the way Morgoth corrupted your mind and soul by force, we'll be the judge of that."

Sauron was silent for a long moment, mulling that over. Námo, feeling his turbulent thoughts surge against the shields (though he could not read nor understand them), waited patiently for the Maia to organise his mind into some semblance of order. He knew the moment Sauron realised his own mental shields were gone, because confusion overtook his features, rapidly followed by a look of unbridled terror.

"My-my mental shields are gone, yet my m-mind is not un-unguarded…"

Sauron looked at Námo, not showing any of the terror the Vala had just seen. Though Námo could see the panic bubbling just beneath the surface. Sauron was doing an excellent job of keeping it contained. Even though he was clearly terrified. While there _was_ a spark of hope in his gaze, it was balanced by a sense of _distrust, betrayal,_ and _unease_ that flickered across the mental shields Námo had erected. The Maia's emotions and thoughts were in complete shambles.

"Are you doing something? But I c-can't feel you in my head…"

Námo swiftly stopped _that_ panicked train-of-thought.

"I am shielding your thoughts, little one. But do not worry. I am not in your mind. My power is simply ensuring you remain stable, and that nothing can enter your mind without permission. I give you my word, I myself will never enter without your permission. Not after what I saw there. If we had known beforehand what had been done, none of us would have entered. Not even Manwë. Why did you not just tell us, Little One?"

The Maia relaxed a small amount at Námo's explanation. However, at the Vala's gentle questioning, he dropped his gaze. It was a while before he replied, and his voice was very soft.

"I was scared."

Námo nodded calmly, even as he felt his heart bleed in anguish for all Sauron had suffered. For a Maia to be this terrified of them, made Námo feel he'd failed in the job he was sent here to do.

"That is understandable, after everything you've gone through. I am sorry for what we did. We truly did not know what had been done to you. But, it is good we now understand. That way, we knew how best to help you heal."

The Maia was silent for a while, mulling that over. When he spoke again, his voice was hesitant, and more than a little stilted.

"W-what exactly are you going to d-do with me, if you are n-not throwing me to the V-Void?"

Námo gave him a steady look.

"We are going to look after you, help you heal, and give you the chance to prove to us you genuinely want a second chance. You must know that, though we have all agreed to show mercy, no one trusts you. You will have to earn that, and show us you are sincere in the repentance you professed before Eönwë. I am curious why you ran from him, if you really do want a second chance? Why ever go to him in the first place, if all you were going to do was run?"

The Maia looked at the ground.

"You saw that memory. Of what Morgoth said to me, not long before the End."

"Yes, and you had very good reasons to fear us. You still do. But, that does not explain why you even went to Eönwë to begin with."

There was a wry note in the Maia's voice when he replied.

"I did not want to. Though I wanted a second chance, I was terrified of what would happen to me if it were denied. When I heard Eönwë had pardoned several of the First- and Second-Born who had been involved with Morgoth, I saw a possible way out. If I could convince Eönwë to forgive me, then I could go away, and start a new life." The Maia looked at Námo with unreadable eyes. "The knowledge that, by doing it, I would be rebelling against what Morgoth had wanted, also gave the idea a great deal of appeal."

Námo's expressed did not change.

"Rebellious to the end, I see."

Sauron sighed, dropping his head.

"For all the good it did me. Anyways, I came to Eönwë, only to have him tell me I would have to face you in a trial if I wanted forgiveness. Remembering what Morgoth had done and said, I…" He sighed, curling into himself more. "I panicked. I knew I wouldn't survive something like that again. So, I ran. It wasn't a conscious decision; and I really did want a second chance. I-I still do. But, I could not bear the thought of being hurt like _that_ again. I knew it would destroy me."

Námo closed his eyes in pain, not that Sauron could see them.

"And then Lord Oromë found you, and brought you back here. Where all you feared most came true."

Not for the first time, the Guardian of the Dead felt himself curse Manwë's brother. Once again, he cursed their own inattentiveness that had caused heartache and grief to so many. Not the least of which was the Maia sitting before him. He wished it was in his power to reverse time – to fix the hurt before it ever came into existence.

Said Maia looked up at him.

"Yes, but not all of it has come true. You haven't destroyed me yet, nor thrown me to the Void. When Oromë bound me, I was sure it was the end. That-that my life was over."

The Maia sighed. It was clear his next words were addressed to himself.

"Of course, this could all be an elaborate trick. They could still be planning to throw me into the Void, _after_ lulling me into a false sense of security. Morgoth was always very fond of _that_ particular tactic. But, I-I really do want a chance to do the right thing for once."

The last sentence was spoken in a very soft voice, and was mostly muffled, as the Maia had dropped his face to his knees. His shoulders shook as he whispered the next words.

"I just want the pain and fear to stop."

While he did not feel emotions in the same way his sister did, Námo felt his spirit reach out for the battered and abused soul before him. The admission had struck a chord deep within him, and he longed to sooth the wound the words had sprung from.

"I know, Little One. And it will, if you let us help you. We want to help you, and our offer of mercy and redemption is no trick. In the same way you must earn our trust, we have to prove to you we are sincere in what we offer."

The Maia nodded, wearily rubbing a hand over his face.

"I am so tired. I can't remember the last time I slept more than a few hours without nightmares. What are you going to do with me, seeing you say you are not throwing me to the Void?"

He looked at Námo expectantly. The Vala looked him in the eye, counting it as a small win when the Maia did not look away.

"We have agreed your abilities, both your Maiarin ones, and the darker ones Morgoth gave you, will be bound. At least until we feel you are strong enough for us to attempt to remove his influence from your soul. Given the similar nature of both Valarin and Maiarin abilities, it is impossible to separate them, meaning you will lose access to both. I am sorry, but it is necessary."

The Maia sighed, dropping his chin to rest on his knees.

"I hate the ones he gave me, so that's okay. But, do you really have to bind everything?"

Námo blinked. He had not been expecting that reaction.

"Why do you hate them?"

Sauron looked at him.

"I hate how they make me feel, and what they make me do. While I am wielding them, it's fine. They make me feel safe, invincible; like no one can touch me. However, after I used them, I would remember what I did, and feel sick. Remember what I _enjoyed_ doing! It was in those moments I realised I really was nothing more than Morgoth's willing little slave."

"You are not his slave anymore."

The Maia shook his head in disagreement.

"I am. So long as his power resides in me, I cannot escape his will." He swallowed hard, as if the admission pained him to make. Námo was sure that it did. He could not imagine _having_ to serve someone in this way – to not have a choice whether he acted or not.

"He put too much of his own essence into me." Sauron continued. "Sooner or later, if left unchecked, it will encompass me. I was lying to myself in thinking I would ever be able to escape from it. In time, it will force me to do things I abhor. While I am in control of my own thoughts right now, it will continue twisting my mind even more than it already has. Until I have no will but to serve _his_. That was his intention when he bound my core to his will." Panic flooded Sauron's face as he said that. He glanced up at the Vala. "How are you going to bind me? I will not survive another invasion of my mind."

This last sentence was said very softly, with a tangible undercurrent of fear. Námo shook his head.

"I already told you; we will not touch your mind without your permission. The solution that was proposed, and we are adopting, is to make a collar that will render your powers useless. They will still be there; you just will be unable to access them."

The Maia gave a wry laugh that lacked any real humour.

"So, I'm to be collared like a dog. Appropriate. Morgoth always called me his little wolf."

"We are not like him."

Sauron looked away.

"Does this mean I will be bound in one form, and unable to separate my fëa from my fana?"

Námo nodded. This was the one part of the plan he personally wasn't keen on. It was unnatural for an Ainu to be bound in one incarnate form, but he saw no other solution.

"Yes. There is no other way."

Sauron sighed.

"Very well. Do I at least get a say in what form I am to be bound in?"

Námo blinked. Reaching out beyond the Halls, he established a mental link with a surprised Manwë. After a few moments, he looked back at Sauron.

"Yes, within reason. What form would you like to be bound in?"

The Maia blinked, stunned he was been given this small measure of control over his fate.

A fate that otherwise was out of his hands.

"A form similar to this one, but not exactly the same. I-I just don't think I am strong enough to shift on my own right now."

Now, that was something Námo could help with.

"If you would like, I can share some power so you can shift."

Sauron's face paled, and he shrunk back from the Valar. "I-I don't…"

Námo stopped him. "I will not enter your mind, nor touch you in any way. I will merely open myself up, so you may take what power you need to shift. That is all. You will be in control the whole time, but you do not have to do it if you do not want to."

Sauron was silent for a few minutes. He kept his gaze fixed on Námo's, as he worried his lower lip. The Vala, for his part, kept his mind open; allowing the Maia to feel his sincerity.

Finally, Sauron nodded. "I… I would like that. Thank you."

Námo wordlessly reached out with his power, and waited. Latching onto it with the desperation of someone who believed this was his last hope of staying alive, the Maia took a deep breath, before closing his eyes. The form he shifted to was indeed very similar to the previous one, albeit being marginally smaller with more delicate features. He also had a lot more freckles dusting his pale nose and cheeks, the Vala noted with wry amusement. It gave the Maia a rather cheeky look, though his eyes were devoid of any mischief.

Sauron also tried to hide the marks of his exhaustion as he shifted, but did not have the strength to do that. He'd only been able to shift because of Námo's help, and it had still succeeded in sapping him of the little energy he'd possessed.

Releasing his tenuous hold on the Vala, he slumped to one side, closing his eyes. Námo could both see and feel Sauron's relief at being in this form. Even though Morgoth had not restricted his ability to shapeshift, the Maia had obviously not worn this form for a while.

The Vala's thoughts were confirmed a moment later.

"That is better. I haven't worn this form in far too long. Though soon, I won't have a choice in the matter…"

Sauron looked at Námo, and swallowed. His voice was rough, but the sincerity in it was genuine.

"Thank you."

Námo inclined his head.

"You are welcome, Little One. Our aim is not to torment you by doing this; but to help you heal, and earn your redemption. This collar will do more than bind your powers. It will also shield your mind, like I am doing. We want to help you, Sauron."

The Maia winced.

"I hate that name. I hate myself, and what I've become. I hate Sauron. He-he was a creation of Morgoth's. Another dark soul to do his evil will."

Námo looked thoughtful.

"In that case, what would you like to be called?"

The swiftness with which the Maia answered surprised Námo, given how slow and stilted the rest of their conversation had been.

"Mairon." A small smile ghosted on his lips for a minute, before disappearing. "I always liked that name, though no one has called me by it for years. That was one of the first things Melkor removed from me. Not that he ever called me Sauron. He didn't think I deserved any name, only degrading terms. But, I always liked Mairon. And seeing it is his form I am wearing…I wouldn't mind having his name again as well. For all that he was a failure."

Námo gave an internal wince so Mairon would not see it. The complete lack of self-esteem and self-worth this Maia had was almost frightening in its intensity. He completely believed he was not worth anything to anyone.

It was a belief which actually frightened the Doomsman. Not that he was about to admit _that_ to anyone.

Except maybe Vairë. They had never kept their feelings secret from each other.

"You are not a failure, Mairon. You just made some ill-advised decisions that ended badly. Everyone makes mistakes; yours were just worse then some."

Mairon massaged his forehead.

"Melkor delighted in reminding me how useless I was whenever he could. How I only had value because of what he had done to me. How, without him, I was less than nothing."

Námo's outward expression did not change.

"I take a very dim view of anything he said. He was a master at manipulating and lying. Even to himself."

Mairon looked up.

"That's right." He said, understanding flooding his eyes. "He deceived you once. I wish you'd just kept him locked up here. Those years without him were some of the happiest I can remember. Though I was still bound to do his will, with him not being there to enforce it, I was more-or-less under my own control. Or at least, I could pretend I was. Which was nice. When he came back, it was even worse than it had been before."

Curse their stupidity, and Manwë's goodwill.

"That part of your life is over now." Námo reassured the Maia. "While you will be making amends for all the harm you've caused once you're stronger, your past does not have to define what your future will be. You are in control of your destiny now. We will not take _that_ privilege away from you. We are giving you a second chance, and will help you every step of the way. However, it is up to _you_ how you decided to use it."

The Maia said nothing in response. Dropping his head to his knees, he idly traced random patterns on the floor with one finger, mulling over their conversation. Realising it was now significantly less than an hour before Mairon's trial was due to resume, Námo checked in with Manwë, before turning back to the seated Maia.

"We have a little time before we are due in the Máhanaxar, so let's make you more presentable, Little One. Your hair does not look like it's been brushed in weeks. Even with you changing forms."

The Maia ducked his head. Whether in embarrassment or shame, the Vala could not tell.

"It hasn't. I haven't had access to a comb since before the defeat."

"I am sure Oromë would not have objected to you been given one. If you had just asked."

Mairon shrugged, refusing to meet Námo's gentle gaze, or answer him verbally. It was clear he had less than zero trust in the Valar, which was most likely the reason he hadn't said a word since been captured. He had truly believed himself beyond redemption, and doomed for the Void, where he would forever be Morgoth's slave.

Knowing what he knew now, the Lord of Mandos realised Oromë's report on the odd events surrounding the capture suddenly made a lot of sense.

"That is in the past now. Let's find you a comb, Mairon. There should be one around here somewhere."

* * *

 **You can't convince me that Námo, while having a reputation for being grim and unfeeling, is not in actuality simply a sterner and less emotional (openly emotional) version of Nienna. That is my headcannon anyway, and I am sticking to it.**

* * *

 **Update on notes from last chapter: The Plot Bunnies have revealed their plans for explosions in Valinor, and I am now on board with it. It's going to be brilliant! Though, I'm not** _ **entirely**_ **sold on the elves being involved…**

 **The Sequel is shaping up to be** _ **very**_ **interesting. And long. 19 chapters, and we are only about two-thirds of the way through what I want to cover.**

 **Anyways, what do you think of this chapter?**


	5. Extra

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story** **is purely a work of fanfiction, and written for fun. All rights belong to the Tolkien Estate.**

 **Extra: last flashback from Chapter 2 in Morgoth/Melkor's point-of-view.**

 **Chapter summary: Melkor is pure evil.**

* * *

"You will lose. The entire host of the Ainur have come to stand against you. You are even crazier than I thought, if you still think you can win this."

Melkor chuckled in amusement as he regarded his favourite lieutenant. Sauron – for he had bound or perverted all vestiges of Mairon the first time the whelp had aimed to desert him – kept his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Melkor could not help smirking a little at that. Despite being bound to his will, the small parts of Mairon still in existence had fought against his dominance. He had enjoyed _teaching_ the fool his place, and eventually, the lessons had stuck.

He did not need his thrall's warning. He knew his time on Middle Earth was almost up. He also knew he would be sentenced to the Void. He highly doubted the Valar would fall for his little display of repentance again. Not unless they were more stupid then he gave them credit for. But, that did not mean he was not going to cause as much pain and misery as he could before that fate befell him.

"I know, my little wolf. I know I will lose this, but I'm not going without a fight. I _always_ knew this day would come; but look at all I've achieved in the meantime! Oh, the Valar might win this final battle. But I – I won the war a long time ago!"

Sauron said nothing in response to that. Looking at the Maia's bowed head, the fallen Vala felt a thrill go through him at the perfect obedience. He could feel Sauron's fear and hatred of him. It was so tangible, he could practically taste it; and Melkor savoured the feelings. The knowledge his chief lieutenant hated him, but could not resist his will in any way, was just too delicious and intoxicating.

The Maia probably hoped that, when Melkor was defeated, he would finally be able to leave his service. That he would be able to escape, and find _safety_ and _love_ with another Vala. Which would never do. He could not – would not – have his favourite little slave grovelling for mercy at his enemy's feet the moment he was defeated.

"I'm not the only one who will lose in this. If they ever got hold of you, my little wolf, you would realise how merciful I actually am." He rose from his throne, advancing towards his slave. Sauron shivered minutely as he got closer.

"You think what I did was bad. How would you like fourteen of them in your head? Just think of what they could do to you! And with all the evil you've done…" He stopped in front of Sauron, dropping his voice to a gentle whisper. "Well, it wouldn't take them long to throw you into the Void. They would cast you there without a second thought, a bodiless spirit to be tortured for eternity, once they see everything!"

Sauron shuddered, unaware, unlike the Dark Lord, that the Valar were highly unlikely to do as Melkor said. Especially if they did look at the Maia's memories. Manwë's heart especially was too soft. Melkor highly doubted his brother would condemn Sauron to a fate that cruel, without trying to win him back first.

That future would never do. Melkor had not put all that work into making the Maia better and stronger for his brother to come along and ruin. All that time and training could not be allowed to go to waste…

The fallen Vala chuckled evilly, regarding the Maia like a snake regarded its prey.

"My, I have trained you well. For a while there, I wondered if I had made a mistake in taking you. You did have some darker tendencies, but the goodness in you was often blinding in how obvious it was. But, then I realised even your goodness could be useful to me. After all, one only fully understands what they've lost, when they once had it."

He circled behind Sauron – observing the subservient posture the Maia still held – even as his shoulders tensed in anticipation of pain. Melkor smirked; he hadn't had this much fun in ages. "I wanted an excuse to hurt you for a long time, my little wolf; to break you down and rebuild you into something stronger and better and more useful for my purposes. But you were so annoyingly _good_ at your job for so long. I did not want to do anything that could have a negative impacted on your usefulness. Then, just when I was starting to wonder what I was going to do, you tried to betray me. Your attempted desertion gave me the perfect excuse to do what I'd been craving to do for so long: destroy you.

"Do you know, when I took your happy memories, I almost felt pity for you? Or what I imagine pity must feel like? It seemed almost a shame to remodel you; your mind was already an incredible thing to behold. But I made it even better, even darker, smothering that pesky light and goodness that was your only flaw. It was a pity I could not destroy them completely; but only Eru himself has that kind of power. Still, I was able to corrupt you, and bury all that goodness so deep, I doubt anyone but Eru will ever be able to reach it. If nothing else, I've ensured that, no matter what happens to me, you will never be free from my influence."

The Maia shuddered as Morgoth returned to his forefront, and cupped his jaw with a deceptively gentle hand. They both knew it was fake comfort, but his little wolf was so starved for affection (even if he knew it was false) that the Maia could not stop himself leaning into it.

Morgoth smiled cruelly, allowing ice to flood through his palms, burning the Maia's jaw. As a creature of fire and earth, Sauron was very susceptible to extreme cold – especially ice. The Vala had found that out early on, and made sure to exploit it to the fullest when he'd remodelled his second-in-command.

The Maia flinched back with a pained cry, though he remained on his knees, and kept his head down. He raised a hand to cup his cheek, where a blister in the shape of Morgoth's handprint was already beginning to raise. The Dark Lord simply threw his head back, laughing manically, the sound echoing through the vast caverns of his throne room.

"You don't _deserve_ kindness, Little Wolf. Nor pity or mercy. You have done too much. No. You are mine, and always shall be. _Never_ forget that."

* * *

 **Wow. Melkor becomes even more of a demented, abusive psychopath every time I write anything to do with him. And then, when he's already done enough to give me nightmares, CoffeeRanger gets hold of him. And he gets even worse…and this is far from the worse thing he ever did to Mairon. *author gulps***

 **Well, that's it for this story, but the Sequel will be coming. I also have several other one-shots and short tie-in stories written, and they will be gradually posted over the next month or so.**

 **Thank you to all who have convinced me playing in this sandbox isn't a disastrous idea, and I hope you enjoyed this last chapter!**


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